Animus Alliance
by Dann14
Summary: What really happens when you die? It's a bit more complicated than you think, especially for Harry Potter.
1. First Encounter

_Disclaimer: I don't own any HP, only Andrea and the rest of the Alliance._

* * *

Andrea Mason stared at the stack of folders in front of her before heaving a large sigh. She looked around the office and noticed that most of her colleagues looked the same way she felt. 

_Now that all the field work is over, we're stuck with all this paperwork to do, _Andrea thought miserably, pulling the first folder towards her. _Really, wizards are more trouble than they're worth._

"Why is everyone looking so down?"

Andrea jumped a little as a tall woman with long, thick brown hair and dark eyes sat in front of her desk, giving a disapproving glance around the dull office.

"If you haven't noticed," said Andrea irately, moving her folders so she could see Claire Damson's face better, "we're buried under paperwork." She raised an eyebrow questioningly at Claire. "Don't you have some to do as well?"

"Oh, of course, but we can all do that later," said Claire. She placed a packet on Andrea's desk, sending papers fluttering in every direction.

Andrea opened her mouth to give Claire a long diatribe, but she was cut off as Claire said, "Cheer up, we have a new order. We're supposed to report to Britain within the hour."

Andrea blinked twice as a loud hurrah went up among the office. Apparently, Claire's announcement had carried throughout the office; the sullen mood was immediately lightened by this information.

"What's your problem Mason?" asked Claire, noting Andrea's frown. "This means you won't have to do paperwork today."

"Yes, it just means that we'll have more to do when we get back," said Andrea dryly. "Honestly, can't wizards go for at least a week without killing each other?"

"They do war more than the Muggles," said a small, red-haired woman, joining them. "But it means things never get dull at the office. Could you imagine having to deal with them every day?"

"They're a great deal easier than wizards Kelsey," Andrea retorted. "Wizards are the most rebellious lot that we have to deal with."

"That's what makes it a challenge," Kelsey shot back. "It's fun when you come across one that actually fights back. Besides Andrea, you knew what you were getting into when you joined Fifth Division."

"I didn't know that wizards were so lethal," said Andrea, picking up the packet that Claire had thrown on her desk and flipping through it disinterestedly. "Why are we going into a Muggle neighborhood?" she asked, catching the address.

"It's not Muggle," Claire responded, twirling a pen in her hands. "Britain's changed a lot since the war Mason; half the Muggles are gone."

"So it's really true then," said a tall, brown-haired man, joining them. "I heard about that from the Sixth Division, but I didn't really believe it."

"It has to do with that war a few years ago," said Kelsey. "Remember, when we were backed up for months? Sixth Division was flooded around that time too."

"I swear I will never understand humans," said Andrea. "They have a war every few months and have to drag everyone into it." She dropped the packet back onto her desk. "This is supposed to be a small order, are you really dragging the whole division along?"

"I have to do something to keep the morale up Mason. If half the division was stuck doing work all the time, and the other half was sent onto the field, then I'd have trouble and Martin would have my hide."

"I don't see a problem with that."

"Of course not Andy," said the man, his eyes dancing. "You actually enjoy desk work. I don't see how you can, it's so dull."

"I don't _enjoy _desk work, but it's certainly less of a hassle than going out to catch unwilling souls. And don't call me Andy Brendan."

"Whatever you say Andy," said Brendan, before dodging a folder thrown at his head.

* * *

"Are you sure this is right?" 

The division was milling around a dark, deserted street, all looking rather confused. It didn't look as if it was the sight of any recent battles. Andrea had asked the question of Claire, who was pulling out a sheaf of papers from her robes.

"Of course I'm sure," she said irately, reading the papers. "This is the street, Abervale Lane. There was a report of wandering spirits around here."

"I don't feel anything Lieutenant," said Kelsey as Andrea continued to look around, wondering if the report was wrong.

"Look," said Claire, her face turning red. "_Something's_ here and we're going to find it. Spread out in groups and look, alright? Don't leave any corner unchecked."

There was a scramble as the division rushed to follow orders. When their lieutenant was mad, there was no arguing with her.

"I think Damson's pulling our leg," said Brendan, looking around the edge of a house. "If there were any spirits here, we would've felt them by now."

"I don't think the lieutenant is that irresponsible," said John Cobb, a burly, bald man who usually didn't say much. "She wouldn't drag us out here for nothing."

Andrea wanted to agree, but she remembered what Claire had said before in the office; Claire had to keep the morale up. Maybe she was leading them on a fool's errand.

"Don't doubt Damson just yet," John added, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small, circular device that was flashing light into the dark expanse. "They're around here somewhere, so don't let your guard down."

Andrea shrugged, even though she was a little confused at the reaction of the Soul Detector. It didn't usually flash so brightly, no matter how many souls were around.

_It must be broken, _thought Andrea. _If there were that many souls around, one of us would have felt it by now._

Andrea idly wandered around the dark area, wishing that she was back at her comfortable home instead of in Britain. She wondered why she hadn't taken on a desk job at the Alliance, like her mother had suggested. It was certainly less troublesome than chasing after rebellious wizard souls.

She froze when she heard a small, scraping noise. She turned in the direction it had come from, but she couldn't make anything out.

"Cobb, did you hear that?" she asked aloud. Receiving no response, she turned around, her eyes prying into the darkness. "Cobb? Brendan?"

Andrea cursed mentally. She had been so caught up in her thoughts she hadn't noticed that she had wandered away from the rest of her division.

She dug in her pocket, searching for the quartz that she usually carried in her pocket. Her hand grasped around it just as there was another noise, this time much closer.

Andrea pulled the stone out quickly and it lit up the dingy space. She moved the gem around, searching for any sign of movement.

_I must be losing it, _thought Andrea, lowering the stone slightly. _There's nothing here, that report must've been wrong._

No sooner had the thought crossed her mind when someone pushed Andrea down, her face hitting the hard concrete, almost knocking her out. The quartz tumbled out of her hands, the light fading out.

Someone slammed her head into the ground and pinned her arms behind her.

_What the hell is this? Ghosts aren't supposed to be able to touch hunters and humans can't see us!_

"Who are you?" asked a harsh, male voice as blood ran down the side of Andrea's head. "And where are the others that came with you?"

There was a loud bang and the man pinning her down was blasted forwards into the opposing wall. Andrea struggled up as she heard feet coming towards her. She turned to see Cobb and Brendan hurrying towards her.

"Don't move!" shouted Cobb as Brendan helped Andrea up. The man or whatever he was, turned around, his face distorted with anger.

"What the hell?" Brendan muttered, surveying the spirit. "Cobb, be careful, this guy doesn't play around."

"I can handle him," Cobb said, his hand outstretched. Cobb specialized in combat against ghosts that still retained magical powers. Yet this guy was definitely something else; Andrea hadn't even been able to detect him.

The man however, seemed to have different ideas. He obviously realized he was outnumbered before disappearing with a sharp crack, leaving the guardians puzzled to what had just happened.

* * *

"What do you mean a _human_ attacked you?" 

John and Brendan had returned to headquarters and taken Andrea to the infirmary. Claire had just burst in, looking harried and concerned, wanting to know everything that happened.

"I know it sounds crazy," said Andrea, holding her head. The nurse had bandaged it well, but it still ached. "But this guy could touch me; there's no way he was any type of spirit."

"Spirits sometime form tangible bodies," Brendan pointed out, but John was already shaking his head.

"Lieutenant, whatever this guy was, he wasn't a spirit. If he was, he isn't one _we've _ever seen before. The Soul Detector went berserk when we found Andrea." John dug in his pocket and pulled out a bit of powdered dust.

Claire picked up the fine dust, sifting it through her fingers, her eyebrows knitted. Andrea felt slightly sick; no matter how powerful a spirit was, it didn't do that to a Soul Detector.

"What did this guy look like?" Claire asked, putting the remnants of the Soul Detector back in John's hand.

John, Andrea, and Brendan all looked at each other before simultaneously shrugging. "It was too dark to really tell," Brendan finally said. "All I know was that he had dark hair and cracked glasses."

Claire sighed. "Fine. Mason, don't stress about returning to work soon, okay? I'm more concerned about you returning to work well-rested. Based on what happened to you three today, our regiment is about to go through something interesting.

"But I want you two back in the office immediately," Claire snapped, looking at John and Brendan. "And don't go blabbing about what happened." She looked pointedly at Brendan. "I don't want this to spread before we know what's going on."

The three nodded in understanding and Claire, John, and Brendan left, each giving their wishes that Andrea felt better soon.

As soon as the three were gone Andrea laid her head back against the pillows, feeling a little drowsy and a little sick. A tangible spirit, powerful enough to turn Soul Detectors into dust. What was that guy?

* * *

Back in Britain, Harry Potter sat atop the roof of a small house, watching an early morning Muggle street awaken to the emerging sunlight. A middle-aged woman entered from the house across the street and started talking to the man that came out to get his paper. A cat scurried across the yard, much to the middle-aged woman's disgust, and she started yelling at her next-door neighbor, who happened to own the cat. 

But Harry wasn't concentrated on this at all. His focus was on the altercation that had occurred earlier.

Who had those people been? They certainly weren't Deatheaters, at least none that Harry recognized. But they weren't normal wizards either; they possessed magic, obviously, but there was something different about it.

_I wish Hermione was here. She would probably know about it._

At the thought of Hermione, Harry felt his frustration build up again. Despite all of his efforts since his death, Harry hadn't been able to contact any of his friends or allies.

_Why?_

A question that never received any answers. Five years ago, when he had fought Voldemort at Hogwarts, Harry was certain that he had died. It was all over; he had lost, Voldemort had won.

As far as Harry was concerned now, that was halfway true.

Until today, nothing had physically changed with Harry. He ate, he slept, and he could still perform magic (though on a very limited basis). The only difference was that no one could hear or see him and the world thought he was dead.

Harry had tried, multiple times, to speak to anyone he knew or recognized, but nothing ever happened. They just passed him by like he was a ghost.

And then, they had arrived.

Harry rubbed his back, tenderly touching the wound from where one of them had struck him. It was weird to experience pain after such a long time. It still ached, but Harry believed it would heal with some time, as long as he didn't get into any trouble later.

Harry had heard about the battle on Abervale Lane. Supposedly, it was in need of "cleansing" as some of the wizards had put it. A small group of Deatheaters had been dispatched to the area, but had met with some complications, as renegade wizards ambushed them.

By the time he reached Abervale Lane, the street was peacefully quiet and there was no sign of any battle whatsoever.

At first, Harry was certain he had arrived too late to witness the fight. The Deatheaters were tidy when it came to "cleansing." There was never any sign of a struggle, bodies, decimation, etc. They just killed, cleaned up, and were on their way. It was Voldemort's new policy to keep the public from becoming riled. It was a basic human belief—if you didn't see it, then it wasn't there.

Harry was just ready to leave when they had appeared. They appeared to be ghosts, but upon closer inspection, he noticed they were far too solid to be ghosts and were all robed in pale blue uniforms.

_What is this, some type of infantry? _They all kept referring to one woman, a tall brunette, as lieutenant and spoke of other divisions.

His curiosity piqued, Harry had followed a particularly small group of three who were near his hiding place, hoping to find out more about these unusual strangers.

Unfortunately, Harry had assumed that these people like all the others, could neither see nor hear him. So, when the blonde woman unexpectedly heard him stumble against the wall and started to shine the bright stone in his face, he had been more than a little startled.

_I guess it's that thing about old habits._

Harry hadn't meant to attack the woman so violently, but that light had had a weird effect on him.

He shook his head, trying to ward off the uneasy feeling. Harry barely remembered the incident; the last thing he remembered was knocking that stone out of the blonde's hand and being blasted by that bald guy.

"What did I do?"

His hand involuntarily moved towards the wound on his back once again. The sun had fully risen now and the Muggles had retreated back into their houses. It was morning.


	2. Sleepless Nights and a Proposal

"Working already?"

Andrea looked up from her bed, slightly surprised to see a young man with messy blond hair and green eyes walk into the infirmary.

"Faolan," she said, dropping her pen and paper and getting up to hug her younger brother. "I didn't expect to see you."

"Well, I heard about it from your division," said Faolan, hugging his sister. "From Brendan really; he said you were really hurt."

"I'm fine, really," said Andrea, noting the worry in her brother's eyes. "Never felt better except for this small scratch. Honestly Faolan, I've gone through worse."

"That's kind of what worries me," said Faolan, glancing at the paper she had been writing on.

"It's the case report," said Andrea, quickly stowing it on her bedside table. "I'm sure Damson will want one as soon as I come back so I want to be prepared."

"Figures," said Faolan, taking a seat next to her bed. "You were never one to rest, even while you were sick.

"So, what happened while you were out? Brendan wasn't too willing to talk about it; he looked a little shook up when he came to the dorms."

Andrea sighed and stared into her brother's green eyes which were so like her own. She wished Faolan hadn't enrolled in the Alliance; she didn't really like sharing the missions with him. She knew it would come eventually though; her brother was a sucker for wild tales of adventure.

"I can't tell you," said Andrea. "I'm under orders not to speak of it," she said quickly as Faolan opened his mouth to protest, "from Lieutenant Damson herself."

Faolan raised an eyebrow, his interest obviously piqued.

"It's that serious huh? You always get to have the fun missions."

Andrea resisted shivering. She was starting to have nightmares about that strange spirit. "You call this fun?" she asked, pointing to the bandages on her head.

"It's much more interesting than taking classes at the Academy; at least you're out there doing something."

"Yeah, right." Andrea remembered her time at the Academy well; it hadn't been the most adventurous experience and that was probably what bothered Faolan so much.

"Anyway, how is your training going?" Andrea wanted a change of topic

"They're boring," said Faolan. "We only fight against ghost dummies, which I bet are nothing like the real thing and all we ever do is study the different types of spirits. I learned all of that a long time ago."

Andrea listened to her brother chatter happily about his classes and how boring they were. It was very rare that the two siblings were able to talk like this; Faolan usually had classes, Andrea was always working, and the two never saw each other at home because Faolan lived in the dorms now.

"Make sure not to overwork yourself," said Faolan before he left. "Seriously, I'm worried about you and so is Brendan. I don't know the exact details, but you should try to stay out of trouble."

"I think that's what I'm supposed to be telling you," Andrea joked, but her brother was serious. "I'll be fine, don't worry about it. Oh, and try not to mention it to Mom and Dad if they come to see you soon. I'd rather not have them know yet."

"Yeah, yeah, I won't," said Faolan, waving his hand. "See you later."

* * *

Andrea marched into the Fifth Division's office early the next week, her report in hand, amidst the usual bustle of people hoping to get into work early enough to finish off paperwork they had neglected the night before.

Ignoring the whispers of those surrounding her, Andrea went straight to her desk, expecting to see a load of files awaiting her. Surprisingly, the desk was immaculately neat and her inbox was clean.

"Mason, I'm surprised. They already discharged you?"

Andrea turned to see Kelsey Drake heading towards her. Andrea liked the small redhead on occasion, but she didn't think she could tolerate her gossipy colleague today.

"Yeah, I'm all healed," said Andrea, keeping her hand from going up to the small scar on her head. "It was really nothing.

"Say Kelsey," said Andrea, hoping to forestall the wave of questions Kelsey was certain to direct at her, "has there been a shortage of work lately? There's nothing in my inbox."

"That's the Lieutenant's work. She redirected all of your files throughout the rest of the division. She said she didn't want you to come back swamped with work."

"Oh."

Andrea had been hoping to find plenty of work to keep her busy once she returned. She no longer wanted to dwell on the green-eyed spirit that haunted her dreams.

"Andrea," said Kelsey, snapping Andrea out of her daydreams, "I know it's supposed to be kept under wraps and all, the Lieutenant told the whole division, but I'm curious and Brendan won't tell me anything—"

"With good reason," retorted Andrea, a bit sharper than she meant to. "You talk far too much and it's strict orders from the Lieutenant. If you're ordered not to talk about it, then don't."

Looking highly affronted, Kelsey bounced away from Andrea and towards her desk, leaving Andrea alone.

_About time, _thought Andrea, settling into her desk.

She watched the rest of her colleagues roam about the office, greeting each other and occasionally throwing a glance and a greeting in her direction, but Andrea wasn't really too focused on them at the moment.

Andrea had been injured while on a mission before, it really wasn't a new experience. Ghosts, apparitions, poltergeists, vistas, ghouls; she had handled them all before without any problems. Even when she had just started out, back when she attended the Academy, she had never been as afraid as she was when she had confronted _it._

She hadn't been able to sense it and had been powerless to fight against it. Even more, she hadn't recognized it either. The professors at the Academy hadn't gone over unclassified spirits, stating that the chance that a Hunter—the name given to those that graduated from the Academy and moved into the Alliance—would run into an unidentified spirit was less than one percent.

_I guess I'm that less than one._

Andrea disliked complications. She enjoyed it when the Division ran smoothly and missions were easily accomplished. She did not enjoy her job when she did not understand something.

When she was like this, it was best to work until she didn't think about the problem anymore or she had come up with a suitable solution. Unfortunately, the atmosphere she was in right now wasn't helping at all.

_I can't stay here._

Andrea moved from her desk quickly, not seeing the man in front of her and bumping into him.

"Whoa, slow down a moment Mason."

"Sorry Cobb," said Andrea, backing up. "I didn't quite see you."

"Obviously," said John. "The infirmary already discharged you? I thought you'd want to take a bit more time off."

"That's not her thing Cobb, you should know," said Brendan, coming up behind Andrea, making her jump. "You just couldn't stay away, could you?" He chuckled. "You've been like that since the Academy; even if you were injured you would attend simulations and class. If you keep doing that while working, you'll never heal properly."

"I'm fine," said Andrea, a little testily. "Even the nurse said so, so there's no need to worry, so if you'll excuse me."

Without waiting for the two to respond, Andrea pushed past them and out of the office. She didn't like being babied, particularly by Brendan.

Andrea and Brendan Grant had been in the Academy together, though Brendan had been a few years ahead of her. Teasing Andrea had become a past time for Brendan; it was coincidental that Andrea was assigned to the same division as him. It really irritated her and Andrea was certain that her professors at the Academy had had a hand in it.

* * *

"Grant told me I'd find you here."

Andrea looked up from her reading to see her lieutenant looking down upon the files Andrea had been poring over for the last hour.

"I thought that if I didn't give you any work than you might relax, but I underestimated you."

"Mason, you won't find it in here," said Claire, taking a seat next to her. "Don't you think I've already done a thorough background check on these files?"

Andrea sighed. She had supposed so, but there was that nagging little voice at the back of her mind, telling her to check the files anyway.

The two were in Fifth Division's record room. It held the files and case reports on all past missions the Division had undergone since the Alliance's founding.

"Does it really bother you that much?" asked Claire, looking through the records, surprise on her face. "You've already gone through the last 100 years? You work fast Mason."

"It's not as if it helped at all," said Andrea, putting the records away. In 100 years, there had only been three reports of unidentified spirit encounters and none of them had come up with conclusive results as all three cases were dropped.

Andrea couldn't figure out why the cases were dropped, as the files didn't really give a definitive answer and the reports on the unidentified spirits weren't very specific.

"Since you're back, do you have your report?" asked Claire. "I need to put together yours with Cobb's and Grant's so I can turn it into Colonel Martin."

"Yeah, it should be in the…office."

Andrea could've screamed. She was so focused on getting into the case files that she had just left her report lying around for anyone to see. She was certain her division was looking at it now, the nosy little buggers.

Claire obviously came to the same conclusion as she instantly jumped up and grabbed Andrea, running out of the record room towards the office.

* * *

"Now listen up!"

Andrea watched the entire division turn their attention in Claire's direction as her voice boomed over the office, instantly silencing the officers.

"This report's content," said Claire, holding up Andrea's report which was being passed around when Andrea and Claire had reached the office, "is not to leave the division. If I hear a single word concerning it outside of this office, you'll all be doing deskwork for the next millennia. This is not only coming from me, but from the Colonel as well."

That certainly caught everyone's attention and Andrea was surprised. She wondered if Colonel Martin, head of Third Regiment which Fifth Division was part of, had actually issued that order.

"This is a very serious matter and we expect everyone involved to take it seriously."

Andrea thought that for a moment that Claire's dark eyes had wandered to the right side of the room and she saw that Brendan and Kelsey were on that side.

_Probably chattering like always._

"Is that understood?"

"Yes Lieutenant," resounded across the room.

"Dismissed," said Claire and the division was again returned to its chaotic state.

"Hey Mason," said Claire, turning to Andrea as she headed for her desk. "If anyone bothers you about the incident, just report them to me, alright? Oh, and try to get some sleep; you look terrible."

Without even giving Andrea time for a reply, Claire walked out of the office.

* * *

_Do I really look that tired? _thought Andrea, coming back into the office after lunch.

There were a few people in the office, opting for the quietness of the office instead of the wildness of the cafeteria, and a few called out to her, but Andrea ignored them, too lost in her own thoughts.

It was true; she hadn't been sleeping well since the incident because her dreams always flashed back to that moment. In truth, Andrea had felt that she was going to die that day.

Besides that, she was still worried about how Colonel Martin planned to handle the situation.

Claire headed Fifth Division, but Colonel Martin had the final say in all missions that were deemed "highly dangerous" and Andrea was sure that this one pretty much fell into that category.

She thought about the three unidentified cases similar to her own that had also been dropped due to "classified" reasons. Each of the officers that had been involved in the cases no longer worked in Fifth Division; at least, she didn't recognize the names.

Andrea contemplated asking Claire for help, but she thought that the Lieutenant had enough to worry about. She was worried about Andrea, had to keep the division quiet, and then she had to report to Martin. Andrea didn't want to burden her with her own problems.

Still, it bothered her that the officers involved in unidentified spirit cases had all left the Alliance or possibly switched to another division. Were they as freaked out about the incident as Andrea was?

"Andrea?"

Andrea almost tipped over in her chair, startled from her brainstorming to see John standing in front of her desk, looking slightly worried.

"Damn it Cobb, don't do that," said Andrea, righting herself in her chair. "You scared me."

"Sorry," said John, "but you looked so deep in thought and I was wondering if that thing was still bothering you."

"Obviously," said Andrea, trying not to sound too sarcastic. "It's all the division's been talking about for the last week and a half and it's starting to get on my nerves. They all try to make it sound like some exciting adventure—"

"—And it's really scary as hell," John finished for her, nodding in agreement. "I know; I can't stop thinking about it either really. I don't think Grant can either, though he talks about it nonchalantly as if nothing happened."

Brendan had been unusually chipper lately, but Andrea noticed he hadn't been looking too well either. Even Faolan had commented on it the last time the two had talked.

"Anyway, you shouldn't linger on it. Cases like this usually get dropped and the whole thing blows over eventually."

Andrea looked at John, contemplating that idea. He was probably right; John had been working for the Alliance a lot longer than she had.

"So you've had experience with this type of spirit before?"

John shook his head. "No, I usually get the normal ones, but I've heard stories, even though they usually get covered up pretty quickly. It kinda makes you wonder, you know?

"I mean, I understand why the lieutenants and the colonels try to cover up such things; it would cause panic for the entire Alliance if they knew there was something out there even the most experienced officers couldn't handle—"

"But they've never done anything about it," said Andrea. "I read it in the division's files; all the cases were dropped."

"You're underestimating the Alliance," said John as people started filing in from lunch. "You're still a rookie Andrea," he said, keeping his voice low, "if you think that every single event is recorded on paper."

"Hey, you two."

Andrea jumped again as Brendan joined her and John.

"What are you whispering about over here?" asked Brendan suspiciously, looking from one to the other.

"Nothing," said Andrea as John wandered off to his desk.

"Oh, something serious, right? That's why you don't want to tell me?"

"I told you Brendan, it's nothing. We were chatting about small things."

Brendan rolled his eyes. "Yeah, in hushed voices like that I'm sure you were talking about what you had for dinner last night or some other miscellaneous topic. Seriously, what were you talking about?"

"I have to get back to work," said Andrea, deciding to ignore his questions. "I have ten reports to turn in today."

Brendan took a moment to look affronted before heading off to his desk leaving Andrea to ponder over what John had said.

* * *

Harry had been sitting on the steps of a deserted house for some time, watching the people on the street pass by him, unable to see him and going about their own business.

He was a bit hungry and was contemplating how he was going to get food that day without doing too much activity. The wound on his back still hurt and he didn't want to irritate it by moving around too much.

He was so absorbed in his own thoughts and his hunger that it took him a moment to notice the unusual man that was walking back and forth throughout the crowd.

It was around the fifth time the man passed that Harry noticed him. The other people in the crowd just walked past him, but didn't see him; it was as if there was some sort of shield surrounding him that kept him away from the crowd as he walked back and forth. But what caught Harry's eye was the fact that he was wearing the uniform _they _had been wearing.

The uniformed man locked eyes with Harry as he passed through the crowd once again, the steely blue eyes sending a distinctive message: _Follow me._

If Harry had had contact with anyone in the last five years, his better judgment would have told him to ignore the signal. But lack of communication with anyone has aversive affects on a person and Harry was desperate to know about these strange people.

Harry followed the blue uniform throughout the crowd, easily avoiding the surrounding crowd; it was as if there was a path laid out for Harry and this stranger.

The two were finally able to reach an open alleyway, not dissimilar to Harry's first encounter with these people.

The man faced Harry, pulling something out from his pocket. For a moment, Harry panicked and was ready to send the first hex that came to mind hurtling at this guy, but he relaxed once he saw it was only a scroll.

Feeling slightly confused, Harry watched the man unrolled the scroll and clear his voice.

"Harry Potter, born July 31, 1980, 17 years of age on death date, May 2, 1998, son of James and Lily Potter, green eyes, black hair, and scar on forehead."

He rolled the scroll back up. "That is you, is it not?"

"Erm, yeah," said Harry, "but why—"

"Harry Potter, I'm a representative for the Animus Alliance, David Adams. I know this may seem a little new to you, but the Animus Alliance is dedicated to helping lost spirits like yourself. According to our records, you encountered Third Regiment's Fifth Division, correct?"

"I don't really know," said Harry, reeling a little from what the man was telling him. "I did run into some guys that were dressed like you though about a week and a half ago."

Adams nodded. "Yes, that was Fifth Division. You injured Officer Andrea Mason. Normally, we would arrest you and put you on trial. But we're not going to," Adams said quickly, noting the look on Harry's face.

"Why?"

"There are extenuating circumstances that I am not at liberty to discuss in our present area."

"But no one can see us," said Harry. "Everyone in the crowd walked past us and—"

"Harry Potter, I'm merely an officer within the Alliance. I was recruited to bring you back to headquarters; nothing more, nothing less. Due to the incident of February 15th and your history, the Alliance has a proposal for you.

"If you refuse to come with me to headquarters, you will be arrested and tried. More than likely, you will be found guilty of unlawful assault upon an officer and suitably punished."

There was something in Adams' voice that made a chill run down Harry's spine at the word 'punished.' He didn't like the sound of that.

"On the other hand, if you come with me to headquarters peacefully and accept the proposal, then any possible charges against you will be dropped."

Harry cocked an eyebrow. After living in the wizarding world for eight years and being dead for five, Harry was sure nothing else would shock him anymore, but this whole Animus Alliance was throwing him off. Was this guy serious?

"What's the proposal?" Harry finally asked, still trying to gather his thoughts together.

"To find out, you will have to accompany me to headquarters as I am not aware. But Harry Potter, if you must know, the head of Third Regiment, Colonel Martin, has taken a personal interest in you and I assure you, would treat you as fairly as possible once you entered headquarters."

Harry noticed that Adams said this with the utmost sincerity, instead of the slightly robotic tone he had been using during their entire conversation.

But could he really just go along with this strange man, claiming to be an officer of some association that Harry had never heard of and knowing a lot of information about Harry that he had not volunteered? But Adams did know about the earlier encounter and Harry wanted to know more about this Alliance. Besides, it didn't seem as if they intended any harm; Adams was just doing his job.

"How do we get there?"


End file.
